Trick or Treat
by shego219
Summary: Just six good-spirited if late Halloween pieces in which West tries to win back Claire, Hiro and Ando attend a costume party, Claude plays a doctor, Peter fights a drunk angel and the German, DL, Niki and Adam are magically alive.


Trick or Treat

**Summary**: Just six good-spirited Halloween pieces in which West tries to win back Claire, Hiro and Ando attend a costume party, Claude plays a doctor, Peter fights a drunk angel and the German, DL, Niki and Adam are magically alive.

**Pairings?**: Only if you squint.

**Spoilers**: Possibly for parts of Season 3 and some graphic novels.

**A/N**: I totally would have had this done on Halloween if I hadn't gotten so involved in "The Munsters" marathon on Channel 14. Also, I do realize it's probably not possible for all the characters in all their time zones to be celebrating Halloween at the same time, or, for some of them, even celebrating Halloween at all. That's just what fanfic is, people!

--------------------------------------------

COSTA VERDE, CALIFORNIA

This was it, West Rosen told himself as he straightened out his blue and red spandex costume. Tonight would be the night he won back Claire Bennet.

He passed a swarm of candy-rabid children leaving the brightly-lit front porch and rang the doorbell.

The door flew open to reveal a green, scarred and intimidating man carrying a bowl of candy. West jumped back, slightly terrorized for the first time in years.

"Um," he stuttered, "I'm sorry, I must have the wrong house."

"West, is that you?" The creature fumbled with one of his pockets for a moment before pulling out and putting on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

"Noah," West said in clarification of his thoughts, "that's, uh, quite a costume. Really scary."

"Sandra's idea," the man replied. He stared at the boy. "Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?"

"Who is it dear?" Mrs. Bennet called from inside the house. She glided into the hall to meet Noah. It wasn't until he saw them together – Noah looking like Frankenstein's monster, Sandra in flowing pastel robes and a long, straight, black and white wig – that he got it.

"Oh, you guys are the Munsters!" he exclaimed. His theory was confirmed by the sight of Lyle running through the living room dressed as a dead ringer for Eddie Munster.

"Oh, West," Sandra said, looking out at him. "I'll tell Claire you're here."

"No need," Lyle shouted, now from the kitchen.

The teen girl in question appeared between her parents, smiling up at both of them.

"I'll take it from here," she said, edging her way onto the porch. Noah and Sandra shared a look before retreating back into the living room.

Claire remained in the doorway, her expression growing a little less friendly. West noticed she was wearing a rather retro wrap dress and a blonde wig with flipped-out ends.

"Can I help you?" she asked her former boyfriend curtly.

"Marilyn Munster, I see," West noted with an approving nod.

Claire nodded back. "And you are… Superman?"

"That's right," West grinned, posing in his hero costume, a well-timed gust of wind billowing out his cape.

"Impressive," Claire replied, "though not completely accurate."

"What? I'm super," West insisted.

"I meant the man part," Claire muttered under her breath.

"What?" West asked, not hearing her.

"Never mind. Did you want something?" Claire said as she sighed and leaned on the doorframe.

"Are you okay? You seem kind of stressed out," West noted.

"It's nothing," Claire said, not wanting to go into detail about the Sylar attack, her uncle's resurrection and the new Company putting everyone in danger. "Did you have something you wanted to say?"

"I, uh, I was wondering if you were busy," West began, "because there's this party I was going to and- "

"You're asking me out, aren't you?" Claire asked, cutting him off. "I know we didn't end on such great terms, so don't think I'm just blowing you off…"

"Oh no," West groaned.

"But," Claire continued, "I've really got a lot I need to focus on right now, and besides, the holidays are one of the only times I get to spend with my family."

"Even Halloween?" West sighed, already knowing the answer.

Claire smiled back at him. "Even Halloween." Without turning around, she stepped back into the house and started to shut the door. "Now go have fun at your party, West. You never know, you could meet some really interesting people there."

"Not as interesting as you," West said quietly as the door clicked shut. "But who knows." He glanced up at the starry sky before taking off in flight, his cape whooshing silently behind him.

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Peter Petrelli never really thought he would die on Halloween night in front of a bar in New York City, but as he stood there, he said a silent prayer as the deathly apparition above him dove down on a gust of wind.

The angel spoke:

"Petey!"

He seriously began to doubt this was really happening – not so much to angel bellowing out his childhood nickname but that the divine spirit in question was his flying brother in costume.

The elder Petrelli landed before him, swaying on his feet. "You should have seen your face," he managed to tell his brother between laughs. "You actually looked like you thought you were gonna die!"

Peter was pissed. He observed Nathan – resplendent in white robes, sandals and enormous wings – in stony silence.

"This is sacrilegious on so many levels," he finally stated.

Nathan brushed off a tear that had strayed down his cheek and straightened up to show off his unusual attire. "I've decided to re-embrace my religious platform."

"You mean the one that got you your current job?" Peter asked innocently.

His brother shrugged. "At least the press will see I have a sense of humor. Hey, speaking of which, have you seen Queen Frostine wandering around?"

"Queen Frostine," Peter repeated, "the Candyland character?"

"No," Nathan replied, half-laughing again, "Tracy Strauss, my political advisor. The Ice Queen? I was joking that she should dress up as Queen Frostine because…" He waved his arm around as if showing Peter how to put two and two together. "But she said she had work, or… _things_ to do, and maybe she's join me later."

"So, who did you end up drinking with?" Peter asked nonchalantly, not really wanting to hear about his older brother's exploits, although hearing them firsthand might be nice for a change…

"Oh just, you know, these guys," Nathan replied with a forced laugh.

Peter turned his full attention on him now. "No really, who was it?" he asked again, curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's just… okay, you know those guys you've been 'hunting' this week?"

Peter thought back to the trio of escaped Level 5-ers. All week, he had been hot on Knox, Flint and the German's trail. He was going to make them pay for what had happened at the bank with the hostages. He had been determined to catch them tonight.

"What about them?" he queried.

"Well, it was kind of… uh, them," Nathan responded sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, an unusual sign of his guilt.

"What?" Peter fumed.

"Um, not to change the subject or anything," Nathan cut in, completely changing the subject, "but why aren't you in costume? You used to love Halloween, I figured you'd want to put on a mask and unwind… unless you were busy or something."

"They were in there? In the bar with you?" Peter howled, pacing the sidewalk.

"Oh man, you should have seen it," Nathan rambled on, "they were in costume and everything. That German guy was Magneto from that one comic book you used to collect."

"_Uncanny X-Men_," Peter mumbled, feeling twelve years old again.

"Couldn't you be someone from that? I mean, didn't one of those characters have man bangs?"

"_I do not have man bangs!_" Peter seethed, pushing Nathan away with the palm of his hand.

Nathan blinked at him with building malice. "You used to."

Both Petrellis lunged at the same time, turning the simple verbal joking into an all-out street fight. Peter punched and kicked while Nathan managed to grab his little brother in a headlock. Peter tried to use one of his now defunct powers (_Thanks, Dad_, he thought bitterly) before managing to rear upwards. He knocked into his older brother's chest, sending them both flying backwards, Nathan into a nearby parked car, Peter into a trash can overflowing with beer bottles.

The brothers stood up at the same time, but Peter was faster. With one final adrenaline rush, he managed to pin Nathan to the outside of the bar by the throat. His head hit the wall with a dull thud as laughter of the drunken patrons within seeped its way outside.

"When did you start drinking this much?" Peter wondered aloud. He couldn't believe he didn't smell it before; the stench of beer and scotch and whatever else his brother had mixed in with his beverages earlier was overpowering.

"The second time you died," Nathan answered, perfectly lucid.

Peter let the fist he had made fall to his side. His entire body went slack, forcing him to release his brother and take a few steps back.

"Pete? You okay?" Nathan sounded hoarse, but still genuinely concerned for his brother.

Peter clutched his head in his hands. Was he really about to put finding villains over the well-being of his brother – the one he had accidentally killed in the future? He couldn't risk it, not now, not on Halloween of all nights…

He looked up to see Nathan standing over him. Maybe it was the lighting from behind, or the angle at which he stood, or the costume itself, but from where he stood, he really did look like some sort of guardian angel. Peter couldn't help but smirk as the thought struck him.

"Since when are you so serious?" Nathan asked, slinging an arm over Peter's shoulder. "It's Halloween – I think you can lighten up for one night of the year. Now come on," he said as they started down the leaf-covered sidewalk, "let's go pull a prank on Mom."

TOKYO, JAPAN

"Why so serious?" Hiro overheard the man at the bar say for what had to be the millionth time.

He turned his attention back to the vibrant crowd of giddy partygoers. Admission to the karoke bar was free for the night as long as you came in costume, which explained why Hiro was currently sporting a black Batman suit complete with immobilizing neck cowl and cape.

From across the room, Hiro finally spied his best friend and sidekick for the night, Ando. He was reluctantly decked out as Robin the Boy Wonder and his shuffling gait and perpetual "Hide me" expression showed it. He ambled over to where Hiro stood, away from the colorful mob.

"No luck," Ando sighed. Hiro smiled sadly.

"What a shame," he replied. "Kimiko used to love dressing up for Halloween so much."

Ando scoffed. "Maybe, like ten or fifteen years ago. And definitely not as Batgirl or any other comic book character."

Hiro opened his mouth the reply when his world went black. A pair of hands in dark gloves covered his eyes. He felt something scratchy – claws? – on what was exposed of his face.

"Guess who," a female voice purred from behind him. Hiro's stomach dropped – he knew that voice…

Ando groaned. "We're not here to play one of your games tonight, Daphne."

Hiro's vision was restored as his nemesis took a step backwards. "Wait," she started, sounding shocked. "If you're… then he's… Pikachu?" She arched her shoulders, clearly disgusted.

"Who did you think it was?" Ando countered. "And what are you wearing?"

Hiro wondered the same thing.

The speedy blonde was dressed head to toe in black leather pants and a halter-top. She also sported black gloves (which indeed had claws as Hiro has suspected), spiky heels (which probably severely slowed her down when running), a slinky tail, a sparkly black mask and black cat ears, which further accentuated her white-blonde mop top.

"Did I help inspire you, Kitty Kitty?" Hiro teased.

"Shut up," Daphne hissed. She pushed back her headband self-consciously. "I got a letter yesterday from some 'secret admirer' who said he would be here tonight dressed as a Batman character."

"And I'm guessing we stuck out?" Ando queried.

"Well, duh," Daphne replied, placing her hands on her hips. "But if it's not one of you two jokers- "

"Jokers?" Hiro interrupted, the answer to Daphne's quest suddenly dawning on him.

"Looking for someone?" a familiar accented voice responded. Hiro, Ando and Daphne turned around towards the bar to find themselves face-to-face with…

"Adam?" Hiro shouted in disbelief. His archenemy (whose attempts at picking up women he had been overhearing all night) stood there arrogantly in a strange, green button-down shirt and purple suit. On anyone else, it would have been downright atrocious, but on Adam… it sort of worked.

"Why are you looking for Daphne?" Ando asked before he could stop himself, earning a punch in the ribs from the Speedster.

"I couldn't resist meeting your new 'nemesis,' could I now, Carp?" he replied, giving Daphne the once-over before focusing on Hiro, who glared back at him.

"You're supposed to be the Joker?" Daphne sneered from where she stood beside Hiro. "You're not even wearing make-up."

Adam shrugged. "And detract from this handsome face? Besides, you get the idea of what I'm supposed to be even without it."

Ando rolled his eyes as Hiro tensed up, waiting for the confrontation that would inevitably follow.

Adam took a drink of his nearby scotch and set down the empty glass on the bar with a _thud_.

"So," he asked mockingly, "how's your old man these days?"

LONDON, ENGLAND

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry I killed your father."

"I'd be a lot more forgiving if you stopped calling him 'Old Bobbo,'" Elle responded, walking across her plush hotel room with a garish, orange, plastic pumpkin.

"Okay," Sylar agreed, walking into the main room from the shadowy hallway. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the bright room, empty yet overcrowded at the same time. "How did you afford to pay for a place like this?" he asked.

The blonde shrugged. "The Company paid pretty well."

"Do they know they paid you this well?" the reformed-villain laughed.

"No comment," Elle replied. She began putting a stash of candy in the pumpkin as if preparing for someone to come trick-or-treating on the fourth floor of the hotel.

"So, where do you plan to jet off to next on the Company's dime?" Sylar asked, eyeing her low neckline as he joined her in the kitchen area. "Vatican City, maybe?"

Elle turned around to glare at him. "Are you trying to be funny?" she interrogated, smoothing down the skirt of her costume, a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform.

"Yes," he explained tartly, "I'm insinuating that, if in fact you did go there in that outfit, you'd probably get escorted out by the Pope himself."

Elle crinkled her nose and flipped her hair over her shoulder dismissively. "At least I'm not dressed as Mr. Rogers," she quipped.

"I told you, I'm not Mr. Rogers," Sylar asserted, "I just felt like wearing a sweater."

"Uh huh," she said impartially, "I believe you. Every word."

Sylar rolled his eyes and attempted to steal a piece of candy; Elle turned around just in time to give him a good zap of electricity, sending it flying back into the plastic pumpkin.

"What was that for?" Sylar demanded. "What's the point of having all this candy if no one's eating it?"

"Okay, first of all I don't even know why you're here -- " Elle huffed.

"Look," Sylar sighed, hating this confession time more than usual, "I just thought since it was a holiday you wouldn't want to be alone, okay?"

Elle smiled back at him sarcastically. "Aw, how sweet of you. Though I have to ask why you choose _Halloween_ and not some more meaningful holiday like, say, Christmas or Thanksgiving."

She was met by silence. "Oh, that's right," she continued. "You probably already have _plans_, with your _family_, since you're a _freakin' Petrelli_ now!"

"It's not like I chose to be," Sylar retorted.

"Whatever," Elle replied. "Oh, and for your information, I wasn't going to be alone because I invited a friend over."

"A friend?" Sylar wondered. "Is that what you're calling your victims these days, Sparky?"

Elle glared back at him, her eyes shooting daggers to match her blazing hands. Their fight was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"I got it," Elle said to no one in particular before unbolting and opening the door.

The hallway was empty, yet Elle looked around, hesitating a minute or two before closing and re-bolting the door.

"Must have been someone pulling a prank," Sylar said, moving back into the middle of the living area.

"No," Elle said assuredly, "he's here."

"Who's here?" Sylar asked, completely puzzled. "No one came in that door, Sparky."

"BOO!" Sylar jumped in fear as the invisible man came into view, cackling like mad. "I love a good scare on Halloween."

"He has the power of invisibility," Elle mockingly explained to Sylar in a whisper.

"No kidding," Sylar stated, rolling his eyes at her. He sauntered back over to the stranger. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Elle?" he called over his shoulder. Elle just scowled.

"Oh, a friend of Miss Bishop's, I see," the man said, his accent catching Sylar's interest. He extended a hand. "Call me Claude Rains." They shook hands.

"So Claude," Elle said, breaking the silence and walking over to where the two men were standing, "what exactly are you supposed to be?"

"He just said, he's Claude Rains," Sylar answered, earning a strange look from his host. Claude laughed.

"No, no, I'm not supposed to be the film actor. You'll never guess," he added to Elle, reveling in his own inventiveness.

"How can he be Claude Rains _and_ somebody else?" Sylar whispered to her.

"That's his 'name,' or at least what everybody call him," Elle whispered back. The pair watched him roam the room, wandering into the kitchen to shuffle through the bowl of candy. "What could he be?"

"Is anything jumping out at you? Anything distinct about his mannerisms, or clothes…" Sylar prodded, trying to help her solve the mystery.

"Hmm," said Elle, tapping her chin in thought. "He's not as reserved as usual… but it is a holiday… and besides looking a little less homeless than usual…"

"His clothes are weird," Sylar added. "Almost… futuristic." His eyes widened.

Elle, not noticing her companion's realization, walked over to Claude, who was furtively unwrapping a Snickers bar. "Okay, Claude," she admitted, "I don't know. What are you supposed to be?"

"Wait," Sylar spoke from across the room. "I don't think it's 'what' he's supposed to be, but more like 'who.'"

Elle looked at him in puzzlement but Claude grinned. "I think the fellow's onto something, dear."

"_Who_," Elle repeated, running the clue over in her mind. "Who… oh!" She clapped her hands. "Oh, I know, you're Doctor Who!"

"The Ninth, in case you were wondering," Claude replied.

Sylar laughed and reached for the bucket of candy once again before being shocked by Elle.

"Motherf-- !"

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

"MOM!" Micah called from across the house as DL, who had been sitting next to him on the couch, covered his ears.

"Just a second!" Niki called back across the house. The shout was followed by the rustling of tulle and clicking of heels as she entered the living room, the skirt of her poofy, pink dress getting caught on the doorframe in the process.

"Holy… hoopskirt," she amended, coming to stand by the couch. "What is it?"

"Why do I have to be a munchkin?" Micah asked indignantly. "I'm almost a teenager, and this costume is ridiculous." DL shot his wife a pained look from behind their son.

"Because," Niki replied, adjusting her tiara, "you're the youngest one in our group. Besides, Molly is a munchkin and I don't hear her complaining."

Micah shot the girl in question a dirty look. Molly replied in turn by sticking out her tongue from across the room when his parent had their backs turned.

"Now remember, Maya," Mohinder instructed, "you're supposed to be-- "

"The Wicked Witch of the West," Maya finished, waving the professor off. "_Por favor_, Mohinder, you act like I've never heard of 'The Wizard of Oz' before."

"Sorry," Mohinder apologized, "it's just been a while since I've been out… you know, with… someone." He cleared his throat nervously.

"So are you supposed to be evil?" Micah asked as Maya put the finishing touches on her green make-up.

"Micah," DL hissed, shifting uncomfortably in his metal suit.

"Actually, the recently successful prequel Wicked paints the 'wicked' witch as a much more moral character who has good intentions all along until people start to perceive her as being evil because of her appearance," Molly replied. She turned back to Matt Parkman and swiftly drew three stripes on his cheek with an eyeliner pencil. Micah rolled his eyes.

"Don't forget she was supposedly in love with the guy who became the Scarecrow," Matt added, winking at Mohinder, who blushed and readjusted the bundles of straw sticking out of his plaid flannel shirt.

"Hold still," Molly instructed. Matt did as he was told.

"Do I look like a tiger yet?" he asked.

"You're a lion," Niki reminded him. "The Cowardly Lion."

"And you think I'm unfamiliar with the concept," Maya said under her breath.

"So Nana's upstairs getting ready for trick-or-treaters," Monica shouted from across the house before rounding the kitchen and appearing in the hall. "Is everybody present and accounted for?"

"Tin Man," DL said with a stiff wave of his arm.

"Munchkin," Micah grumbled.

"Glinda," Niki said, fluffing out her glittery skirt for the umpteenth time.

"Munchkin!" Molly chirped.

"Lion," Matt replied, wincing as the unsharpened side of the eyeliner pencil scraped his face.

"Witch and Scarecrow," Maya announced for both her and Mohinder.

"And Dorothy," Monica finished, smoothing out her blue gingham skirt.

"Too bad he couldn't borrow Bennet's dog," Matt laughed. "Then we'd be the real deal."

"Wow," Niki grinned, turning to look at Monica, "you got the ruby shoes and everything. I think we're about ready to go," she announced to the group.

"What time is the party at?" Mohinder asked.

"Eight," Micah replied, helping his dad stand up from the couch. "Jeez, Dad, what is this made of?"

"Okay," Molly said, putting away her make-up kit, "you're finished."

"Sounds like I'm ready," Matt declared before adding aside to Molly;

"What am I supposed to be again?"

ODESSA, TEXAS

"Dude, is that supposed to be…?"

"No way, it isn't."

He heard them before he saw them across the bar, two drunken louts in sub-par costumes.

The iconic sixteenth-note hi-hat pattern started up on the jukebox as the black-clothed stranger saw them move closer out of the corner of his eye. The bar was loud, smoky, overcrowded; why were they approaching him, of all people?

"H-Hey," one of the guys said in his direction, sliding down onto the stool next to him. The man ignored them, hoping they would get the hint and leave.

"Hey," the other guy said, leaning in with a laugh, "are you supposed to be that guy from 'Shaft?' You know, _Shaft_?"

The two buddies laughed; The Haitian rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his drink.


End file.
